


You Can't Change Your Family

by moonflowers



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But the ending will be happy, Domestic, F/M, Family Drama, Family Feels, Fili has all the guilt, Fluff and Angst, Hand Jobs, I have no idea where this is going, M/M, Mild Angst, Sexual Content, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-10 17:24:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/788251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonflowers/pseuds/moonflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The quest to reclaim Erebor has begun. Fili and Kili are coming to terms with the fact that they feel more for each other than brothers traditionally should. But they boys' newfound acceptance of themselves is challenged once more when they find out one of the biggest truths in their lives has always been a lie.<br/>Bofur is Fili’s father.</p><p>ON HIATUS~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because I realised the other day that Fili and Kili’s dad always looks a bit like Bofur in my head. Not all the details, like the hat and whatever, but he just has this massive smile, and yeah. I’ve decided to call their father Narin, for future reference.  
> Worth noting that I’ve decided dwarves are pregnant or a year, rather than the human nine months. I don’t really have a good reason, it just felt like something that could be true, and makes sense in my head.  
> Also, I’ll attempt to make this as plot hole free as I can, but it’s possible I’ll slip up now and again. There's a lot of headcanon going on.  
> I still don't have internet at home, so updates could be a little distant.  
> Ta :)

“You cannot tell me who I can or cannot love.” Dis’ eyes were steely and cheeks flushed with anger as she stared down her brother.

“I think you’ll find I can,” Thorin rumbled in return and met her gaze, his own rage still in check for the time being. “I will not permit you to play happy families with this nobody.”

“Nobody?” Dis looked as though she was about to vomit. “He is not ‘nobody,’ Thorin. He is one who has shown me kindness when I needed it most, to keep the shadows that haunt our family at bay.” She hesitated. “He is the one I lo –“

“Don’t!” Thorin cut her off sharply. “Do not say it. I do not wish to hear it.”

“You do not wish to hear I am in love?” His sister leered at him across the kitchen table. “Well I am, Thorin. I am in love with this ‘nobody’ of Moria.”

“Fine. And what of that?” He nodded to her belly, and her hand curled possessively over it. “What of your child? You will marry this miner, and live forever in coal dust and darkness, dragging up your offspring in squalid poverty when they ought to live as royalty?” Her face twisted with hurt, and he almost regretted his words. “I would not wish that for you.” He spoke more softly as he reached for her hand, but she withdrew from him. 

“Then what _would_ you wish for me? To ‘drag up’ my child alone? Or are you offering to provide food for yet another mouth? And as for darkness and squalor – “ she stood and waved her hands about, gesturing to the dank kitchen of the poor rooms they were dwelling in for the moment “– You can hardly offer us better can you, oh mighty heir of Durin.” She spat on the floor at his feet.

The gesture and the venom behind it stung, but he ploughed on regardless, keeping his eyes fixed on hers. She met his gaze evenly through her anger. “You must wed someone suitable, and soon,” he said, as gently as he could manage. “If we act quickly enough, you will be able to pass off the child as your husband’s, born within the legality of your bond.”

“You will have me wed another?” Dis snorted and put a hand on her hip, the very image of their mother when she scolded them in their childhood. It appeared the gentle approach would not be a success. “Is that so? Fine, who do you plan on bartering me off to?”

Thorin braced himself for the fury that was sure to follow his next remark. “I have spoken to Balin of the matter, and we have picked out a dwarf of high enough standing to be worthy of your hand. We sent word to him, and he is willing to take you as his wife, and raise the child as his own.”

“You what?” Dis’ eyes widened and she gaped in shock. “You have chosen the man I will be forced to spend the rest of my long years tied to without my consent or opinion on the matter? You have sunk low indeed, brother, to treat me as such.”

“What else would you have me do?” He growled, anger flaring up and growing stronger by the moment. “We are of royal blood, Dis. The people look to us now more than ever in our exile. We must make examples of ourselves – strong and noble, a rock for them to cling to in this turmoil we’ve been cast into. And you deserting them to shack up with some miner of poor stock – “

“Oh, so that’s your problem is it? That he is not good enough for us, the heirs of Durin, with blood purer than the gold of Erebor.” She didn’t bother to hide the mocking ring in her voice, and her mouth twisted into an ugly smile.

“Essentially, yes.” Thorin spat, gripping the edge of kitchen table hard. 

“So you’re saying that if I had fucked a dwarf of purer blood, you would have no issue with this?” She gestured to her belly, still fairly flat, not yet showing what was growing inside. 

He would have had an issue with his little sister bedding a dwarf of any standing, and they both knew it, but now was not the time to go over old disagreements, when this new one held such weight. “No,” he ground out through his teeth, “though it certainly would have helped matters. A bastard is a bastard, no matter who his father is. But this is beside the point, seeing as your child will be raised as legitimate. What matters for the time being is getting you married to Narin as soon as possible, so people will believe the legitimacy of your child, and its noble blood.”

“And you really think people will believe it?” She sneered. “Suppose I marry this stranger, this Narin, in a month’s time. My baby will be born ten months later, two months sooner than people would expect.”

“You will be marrying him next week, so it will be closer to a month premature. And those that do notice the child’s early birth will keep quiet.”

She did well to conceal her shock at his command. “To our faces maybe. But you know people will talk, Thorin. They always do.”

“Yes, and they will say that yours and Narin’s child was conceived some time before your marriage. They will assume you longed for each other too much to wait, which will only strengthen our story.”

“No they will not, Thorin!” Dis near screamed in frustration. “There will always be those who guess, and guess correctly. This entire affair is pointless. If I must go through with it, I will be miserable for the rest of my life.” Her faced softened, and she looked to her big brother as she would when they were children, and she craved for a hug. “Would you really wish that for me?”

It wrenched at him to see his dear sister in such anguish, and all the more bitter tasting knowing he was partly the cause of it. But he must harden his heart – she had brought this upon herself, and it was his duty to think of the wellbeing of their people, and their family’s image in their eyes. “No, I would not wish it for you. But you must do it nonetheless.”

Dis slumped into the worn armchair by the stove. “And what of the dwarf I love? I wager nobody has thought to ask his thoughts on the matter.”

“Dwalin and I had words with him. He is permitted to stay in Ered Luin if he wishes, but it would be wiser for him to take his leave. Should he choose to remain, he is not to make himself known to the child.”

“Thorin, that’s too cruel. You cannot separate a father from his son.”

His scowl deepened at the bitter memories of their own father’s fate. “I would not wish it upon anyone,” he answered truthfully. “But that is how it must be, for all or sakes, Dis.”

She looked up at him across the room, eyes full of remorse and empty of hope, all their usual defiance sucked out of her. “So be it.”

~*~

Thorin was as good as his word, and the sham of a wedding ceremony did indeed take place little over a week later. It was still too early for Dis’ pregnancy to be noticeable, especially under the finery they had managed to dig out for her to wear. Thorin watched grimly as she and Narin exchanged the traditional words of love and duty, and smiled and applauded along with their people. The wedding was not as grand as it would have been in their halls under the mountain, but then, if they still held Erebor, perhaps this wedding would not be taking place at all. Dis had always held off marriage as long as possible, cherishing her freedom as a princess, as strong willed as both her brothers. It was likely that if they dwelt in their rightful home in a time of peace, she would still be unattached. But the dragon had taken their home and their happiness, and Thorin’s hate for the beast grew hotter and deeper with each day.  
When the ceremony was over, and frugal festivities coming to a close, Thorin could no longer stand the sight of his sister’s empty smile, and retired to his rooms.  
He lay a long while in the darkness, sleep escaping him, mind and body thrumming with anxiety for what the future would bring his family. Things would never be simple for them, it seemed. After some time, he heard footsteps across his cold floor, and a weight settle next to him on his bed. There was only one dwarf it could be. He sighed, and turned to pull Dis into his arms. Despite the resentment still brewing between them, their love for one another could not be wholly crushed by it, and she allowed herself to be brought closer to him, head tucked under his chin. She should have been with her new husband, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn her away, not after everything else he’d denied her. Without thinking about it, he moved his hand to rub her belly. The child inside her would in all likelihood become his heir, if it were a boy. He silently vowed to show it the care and devotion he had always shown his sister, and not to let it down as he had done her.  
Dis’ was not the first marriage of convenience within the line of Durin, nor would it be the last. Thorin could only hope that the fierce love and possessiveness their race was famed for grew between Dis and her husband, at least for the sake of the child’s if not for her own happiness.  
Sleep came easier to him after that. 

~*~

_(82 years later)_

“You’re sure?”

“Aye.” Dwalin turned his axe over in his hands, a sure sign of discomfort to those who knew him, and Bofur had had his fair share of run-ins with the dwarf over the years. “I thought it best you knew, before we set out.”

“Right. Yes, yes you’re right.” Bofur slapped on a smile. “Thank you, for letting me know.”

Dwalin nodded, and made for the door, never one to draw out a conversation longer than was needed. “Until then.”

“Yes.” The moment his front door swung shut, the smile slipped from Bofur’s face as he fell into a chair. 

He and the younger son of Fundin had known each other close to eighty years now, when he and Thorin had ensured Bofur knew his place. The warning to stay away from Dis and her child had been more than clear. Needless to say, they were hardly the best of friends after that. Their paths only crossed when Bofur was due to be checked on, to ensure he was keeping his promise. Yet this time a particular piece of news had led him to track Bofur down. Though the information Dwalin had brought was far from pleasant, Bofur was glad of the warning now, rather than finding out later along the way.  
Dwalin had barely left when the front door opened again, this time to admit Bombur.

“Morning, brother,” Bombur said in greeting. “All packed and ready for the off?”

“I’m not so sure.” Bofur muttered as he fired up his pipe. “Can I get you anything?”

“Best not.” The large dwarf patted his belly. “Why so glum? And what was that thick-skulled troll of a dwarf doing here?” He glowered at the door. Dwalin’s dealings with Bofur had made him an easy target for dislike in their family. 

“The answer to both your questions is one and the same, brother.” He gestured for Bombur to take a seat opposite him at the table. “You remember of course, the very first time Dwalin graced us with his presence?”

“Mmm, how could I not.”

“Well, it seems the reason for us meeting again is similar to that first time. As it always is.”

“Oh?” Bombur raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

Bofur sighed and took a long pull on his pipe. “My son. My son is coming on the journey to retake the mountain.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To celebrate the fact that I have internet again (it's been five weeks, FIVE WEEKS) here's chapter two.   
> I can't remember if I mentioned this before, but I should probably point out this will be based more on the film, and draw on the books to fill in the gaps and background stuff.  
> Ta :)

The Shire was beautiful. Fili had grown used to the scrubby grass and rock of the Blue Mountains, and though the wooded southern slopes were pleasant enough, they were nothing to the rolling green he found himself looking at that afternoon. The evening air was sweet, and warm with the promise of spring. 

“Come on, we’ll be late.” Kili interrupted his musing, slapping his brother on the shoulder as he strode past.

Fili snorted and looked up from the patch of bright flowers by the side of the road. “Since when did you care so much for punctuality?” 

“Since Gandalf told us of hobbits’ generosity when it comes to food,” Kili grinned, and Fili good-naturedly shoved him in return.

“If you say so.”

Kili could claim it was of the promise of food that drove him on all he liked, and to anyone else it may have sounded sincere. But it wasn’t the true reason for his enthusiasm, and Fili knew it. His younger brother had been restless for months, gazing at the skyline away to the east, not able to focus on anything for long – be it hunting, sparring, or even a simple night at the tavern. His thoughts were somewhere else, and Fili wasn’t sure he even knew he was doing it. It had come as a relief when Thorin had told them of his plans to retake the mountain, and that he wished to have his nephews at his side. And the relief had been even greater when they had finally taken to the road at last, goal in mind, rather than passing the days in the Blue Mountains, waiting for some uncertain future.   
Secretly delighted by the strange architecture of the homes hobbits built under the earth, their round windows and doors painted bright as the fruits and flowers of their gardens, Fili was in no great rush to reach their meeting place. But night was drawing in fast, and Kili grew more fidgety and impatient with each step they took. He practically ran when they noticed the rune scratched into the door of the large home on the hill. 

“Kili!” Fili jogged to catch up with him, reaching the door just as Kili banged on it with his fist.   
It opened to reveal a hobbit, quite unremarkable, much the same as the few they had passed on the way – though this one looked more irritated and less curious than his fellows. Fili caught sight of the small pile of weaponry and the cloaks hanging just inside the door. They were not the first to arrive.

“Fili.”

“Kili.”

“At your service.”

The hobbit stared at them blankly for a moment, before scrambling to shut the door. “No. You can’t come in.”

Fili silently thanked Mahal for his brother’s strength of will and lack of manners as he pushed his way through the door and past the still fussing hobbit. They had barely set their own weapons and travelling gear aside when Dwalin swept them further into the hobbit hole and got them shifting furniture around.

“Wonderful to see you too, Dwalin.” Fili gave him a thin smile.

“Yes, good to know you haven’t changed.” Kili added. Dwalin just gave him a wink and told them to move the table before striding off to help Balin in the pantry, where he was being berated by Mr Baggins. Kili rolled his eyes and gripped the edge of the table, ready to lift.

“Kili, no!” Fili darted over to him and placed his hands over his brother’s where they held the tabletop.

Kili stopped and stared at him, brow quirked in surprise and confusion. “What?”

“Don’t lift it like that, you troll. You’ll put your back out.” Fili saw his brother’s eyes flick down to where their fingers were laced together atop the scrubbed wood surface.

“...Oh.” 

“Boys!” Dwalin strode back into the room, and Fili jumped away from his brother as though burned, feeling a guilty flush across his face. “You’ve not moved the table yet? What use are you whelps going to be to your uncle if you can’t even shift a piece of bloody furniture? Get out of the way.” Fili knew Dwalin well enough to guess that he wasn’t serious, but that didn’t stop him feeling suitably useless, and did nothing to lessen the warmth of his face. “I’ll finish off here. You two go and find us something to drink. I’ve a feeling we’ll be needing it before long.” With a lopsided grin, he shoved them from the tiny room. Kili snorted and shook his head in amusement, before wandering off down the hall to lead their search for alcohol, leaving Fili to stumble after him. 

By the time the rest of the party had arrived, the hobbit looked near ready to off himself. For a moment, Fili feared he was going to burst into a fit of rage, but faced with the dwarves’ jovial smiles and sincere greetings, Mr Baggins appeared to resign himself to his fate, and waved them all inside. Each introduced himself to the hobbit, and in all honesty, Fili was glad of it. Though he had met them all before, some were more familiar to him than others, only vaguely recognisable as friends of his uncle, weaving their ways in and out of the in some ways sheltered lives he and Kili had lived in the Blue Mountains. Still, they were all pleasant company, and he knew Ori well enough. He was close in age to the brothers, and Fili found his presence relaxing in comparison to his boisterous sibling.   
After eating and drinking together, everyone’s spirits seemed to rise further still; the prospect of the journey before them and the glory that awaited them stirring them all to a state of happiness and enthusiasm. Other than the hobbit, perhaps, who didn’t seem too pleased with the speed and quantity in which his food was being consumed, nor enchanted by the promise of riches. None too pleased at all, if his ranting at Gandalf was anything to go by.

“Excuse me,” Ori interrupted the shouting as respectfully as possible, bless him, “what shall I do with my plate?” The hobbit gaped at him, thrown by the polite question amid the chaos.

“Here you go Ori,” Fili smiled warmly as he stepped into the room, “give it to me.” Taking the plate from his friend, he abruptly tossed it down the hall to Kili, who caught it with a grin and a flourish and threw it on to Bifur. The hobbit’s face was priceless. Despite the protests of Mr Baggins, Fili continued to fling various pieces of crockery across the room, attempting to outdo his brother in the creativity and accuracy of his throws. It was something they often did at home when their mother asked them to take care of the dishes – it drove her mad with worry for her plates. Congratulating Kili on a particularly fine catch, he heard a steady thump building from the dining room, beating out a rhythm he knew well. 

“Don’t do that! You’ll blunt them.”

“You hear that lads? He says we’ll blunt the knives.” 

Fili couldn’t help the foolish grin on his face when he heard one of the company shout from the other room. A grin which only grew when Kili started to sing the familiar words.

_“Blunt the knives, bend the forks...”_

It was a song every dwarf knew; a silly ditty for younglings really, to get them to help with clearing the table. Yet now seemed the right moment for it – one last burst of laughter and familiarity before they set off into the unknown. And it wound the hobbit up fantastically, to everyone’s amusement.  
Oddly enough, it was times such as this when Fili felt closest to his brother. It was all very well when they were just talking, studying, or doing other mundane things together, but it was when they shared a task, worked alongside each other, that he felt the bond between them the strongest. When one relied on the other to anticipate his next movement, his words or his intentions. Times like that they flowed as if they were one being, not two. It showed up most clearly in the practice arena – they were far more adept at taking on someone together, a common enemy, rather than facing each other to spar. Working against each other had always been a weak point, one Dwalin had been keen to drill out of them. They were as trees twined together at the root: the extent of their closeness was not immediately noticeable until you dug a little under the surface. 

When the long-awaited knock at the door signalling Thorin’s arrival came, Fili and Kili rushed to the door a few steps ahead of the others, keen to see their uncle safe. Their youth had been fraught with a vague sense of worry each time he left, and relief each time he returned. Some habits were hard to shake. Fili looked to his brother as Bilbo opened the front door. Were he a dog, his tail would have been wagging; he was smiling expectantly and grasping the doorframe.   
Thorin smoothly ducked through the door, unfastening his cloak and unashamedly announcing he’d got lost. Twice.

“I wouldn’t have found it at all if it weren’t for the mark on the door.” He handed his cloak to Balin, and paused when he caught sight of Mr Baggins. “So. This is the hobbit.”

Fili leaned against the wall, small smile on his face as his uncle proceeded to question the hobbit on his choice of weaponry. It was a strange mix of smug humour and serious practicality that only those who knew Thorin well could perceive.

“Well I do have some skill at conkers, but I fail to see how that’s relevant.”

Well. Points to the hobbit for attitude. Fili had endured the same frowns and relentless questioning from Thorin many times growing up, and rarely had he dared say something so clever in return. Perhaps there was more to this halfling than he had first thought.  
Introductions and reunions complete, and the company dispersing in search of more food or chatter, Thorin turned last of all to his sister-sons. 

“I’m glad you’re here, boys.” He clasped Fili’s shoulders and briefly touched their foreheads together. He smelt of hot metal, cold air, and home. “It means much to me.” He repeated the greeting with Kili. “And to your mother, though she may pretend otherwise.”

“She worries,” Fili shrugged. “It’s understandable.” He worried for Kili more than he cared to admit. A glance shared with his uncle confirmed it was a feeling they shared: Kili would always be the baby of the family, no matter how seasoned a warrior he may become in time. 

Later, when the hobbit had sullenly but politely found Thorin something to eat, the company were seated around the table, discovering just how much Gandalf had been keeping form them. Fili eyed the key his uncle now held possessively close.

“Where there’s a key, there must be a door.” He rested his hand on Kili’s shoulder. He’d found it hard to believe their journey would really come to pass; so far it had felt little more than one of the elaborate hunting or scouting trips of his childhood. But in that moment, seeing the fierce hope in his uncle’s eyes, it finally felt real. 

“There’s another way in.” His brother’s voice brimmed the same anticipation. As Kili spoke, Fili felt fingers grasp at his knee. Glancing discreetly under the table as best he could, he saw Kili’s hand clenched into his leg, knuckles white and his whole body pulled taught as his bow as he leaned over the table, caught up in the excitement and the call of adventure and the glory their ancestors had written of. Kili’s hand shifted slightly on his leg, and the younger only then seemed to notice what he was doing, and looked down at his own fingers in surprise as they dug hard into Fili’s knee. He frowned and drew his hand away, clenching it hard in his own lap as though he’d touched something unpleasant.  
Moments later, his gaze shifting guiltily around the table, Fili noticed Dwalin was looking at him. He could not quite place the meaning behind it, but it was intense and hard, perhaps a little sad. Whatever the reason, the intensity of it made Fili look away, and instead fix his eyes on the tabletop. Had he noticed the unfamiliar awkwardness between he and his brother that evening? Fili dearly hoped not. He could do without questions from Dwalin when he was unsure of the answers himself.

Fili was mildly concerned and perhaps a little impressed that Bofur had managed to cause the hobbit to faint, but beside him, Kili was hiding his laughter behind his hand.

“Come on,” he muttered through his smile as he grasped Fili’s forearm, “everyone will be after somewhere to bed down soon, and I refuse to take the kitchen floor. We’re finding somewhere decent before the others take all the good spots.”

“Fine.” Fili allowed himself to be dragged down the twisting halls and passages of the hobbit hole, ducking into little rooms and cupboards in search of somewhere to rest their heads.   
Soon he was laughing along with his brother, sense of adventure starting to grow stronger. He had the distinct impression they were going around in circles when they pushed open a small, plain door they hadn’t noticed before. There wasn’t much inside; various items of disused furniture and a few piles of books.

"Ah. Perfect." He followed Kili's line of sight to a squashy green sofa, which looked deliciously comfortable, though it had clearly seen better days. And it was tiny. More the size for one hobbit, rather than two dwarves. "We can fit on that. No doubt we've slept in worse places."

"Yes." Fili wasn't so sure. He knew this meant Kili would wrap himself around him as he slept, and he knew he would let him. It felt different now, to when they were children. Now, when he woke to Kili's hair tickling his face and greeted with the musky smell of sleep, it awakened something new and strange within him. But who was he to deny his little brother what he wanted? Or himself, for that matter. He suspected it may cause problems later on down the line if he let himself continue, but he was simply too selfish to stop.   
He could hear the rest of the party singing in the other room, a deep thrumming note that he could feel through the floor. It spoke of the deep stone and the halls of their fathers, of lost treasures and unfulfilled promises. “Come, Kili.” He turned and made his way back, slightly concerned by how sleeping in such close proximity with his brother unnerved him so much more than it used to. 

~*~

Bofur wasn’t entirely sure how many of the others were aware of the nature of his connection to the line of Durin. Of course everyone present knew each other or Thorin to some extent, or they would not have been asked for their assistance on the quest to begin with, but he thought it unlikely they knew just how intertwined with the family he was. He guessed the only dwarves that knew for certain he was Fili’s true father were Bombur, Bifur, Thorin, Balin and Dwalin. Though he wouldn’t be surprised if Nori knew. From the little he had figured out about the dwarf from their previous meetings, he often knew a lot more than he let on.   
As they stood outside the hobbit’s front door, he felt Bombur lay a hand on his shoulder, and heard a whispered reassurance from Bifur in khuzdul. 

Soon enough, they were all inside the warmth of the hobbit hole, introducing themselves to Mr Baggins and greeting the others already present. Dwalin gave him a pointed glare as he walked in, which Bofur acknowledged with a grim nod before helping to bring in more food from the pantry. He was keenly aware of Fili’s presence, catching the odd glance of him out of the corner of his eye, or the barks of laughter from him and his brother.   
He had tried to greet the boy as normally as possible, and it must have been successful, as in return he got a vague and polite greeting, fitting of an acquaintance. For that’s all Bofur was to him after all – a half familiar face from his childhood, someone his uncle knew. And Fili, Mahal bless him, bowed and smiled distantly, every inch the well-mannered heir he’d been raised to be. Would he be different perhaps, had he been raised by Bofur? 

Later on, after a few ill-thought out remarks, Bofur had inadvertently caused the hobbit to faint. He felt a little guilty about it, truth be told. None of them had expected the hobbit to drop to the floor after all; though Bofur had to admit his grizzly account of dragon attacks probably hadn’t been the best of ideas. He wasn’t quite thinking straight. It was left up to the wizard to bring Bilbo back around, and sit him down to drink some tea.   
He heard a snort of laughter from the corner, and turned just in time to see Fili being ushered from the room by his brother.

“Bofur,” Thorin caught him by the elbow, noticing where his attention lay, “can I have a word?”

He arranged his face into a smile. “Of course.” They ducked out into the hallway, closely watched by both Bifur and Dwalin. “What is it you wish to say?”

“You know well enough.” Thorin spoke gruffly, before shaking his head and taking a softer tone. “This must be difficult for you. And I must know now before it’s too late – can you do this? Because if you cannot, then I grant you freedom from the contract. You can return home, if you wish to.”

“We both know I won’t do that.” Bofur’s face slipped into a genuine smile, though it was small and sad. “Erebor _is_ my home, just as much as it’s yours. As much as it’s all of ours.”

Thorin sighed. “I know. But do you think you can continue to be so close to Fili, without telling him who you are? The mountain is far, and I do not know what we’ll meet on the way.”

“All his life, I’ve wished to know him better. Now I have that chance. And I’ll take it, even if it means keeping up this lie.”

“This _necessary_ lie,” Thorin spoke sharply. 

“I’ve been lying to him for all this time, we all have. There’s no reason for us to stop now, is there?” He tried to keep his tone light, through the guilt and anger that wrenched at him.

“You tell me. I’ve never allowed you to be so close to him for so long before.”

“Aye, I know it.” All he’d had to feed his curiosity about his son over the years were swift meetings and chance glimpses in the market, or the modest halls of the Blue Mountains.

Thorin frowned. “I will not have you reveal your true identity to him Bofur. The consequences for you will be dire if you do, never mind the damage it could do to him. I stand by what I said eighty years ago – if you break the promise you made, there will be no place for you with us any longer.”

Bofur felt his face harden at the reminder of the threat hanging over his head. “Of course. I understand.” He bowed stiffly and went to refill his pipe, leaving his king to glare after him. Smoking was something he usually did for enjoyment rather than to relieve stress, but if there was ever a time he needed to calm his nerves, it was now. Also, it was probably wise to occupy his mouth with the familiar ritual before he said something to Thorin he would regret.  
He stood for some time alone in the hallway, sweet pipe smoke wreathed about him, listening to the laughter of his unknowing son echo through the tunnels of Bag End.


	3. Chapter 3

It was early still, meaning that despite the beautiful dawn breaking over the Shire, the company of dwarves was silent and drowsy as their ponies carried them away from safety and into the unknown. Even Gandalf was suspiciously quiet. Thorin however, was wide awake, and making the most of the peace while he could. It was only a matter of time before his fellow dwarves woke up properly and began chattering and bickering, singing snatches of old songs and indulging in pipe-weed. Yes, it did provide some strange comfort to hear them so at ease and full of themselves, but he had grown used to quiet and solitude. He was in part thankful the hobbit had refused to join them; they would have been even more excitable if so. As it was, he worried that there were some amongst them who took their quest too lightly – he snuck a glance behind him at his nephews to see Kili drooped dangerously sideways in his saddle. He opened his mouth to call back to him, but someone beat him to it.

“Kili!” Fili yelped when he noticed his brother’s precarious position and gave him a shove to set him right. 

“Thanks.” Kili gave him a sleepy smile and carried on riding. His younger nephew was not a morning person. 

For the first of what would be many times during their travels, Thorin wondered if he had not made a mistake in requesting they join him. Yes, he was proud to have his sister-sons at his side as they took back the home of their fathers, but a part of him ached with guilt at dragging them away to ruin their happy naivety and break them in to the true harshness of the world. But then, it had to happen sometime. Thorin himself had been forced into adult responsibility far sooner than he would have liked.   
Earlier that morning when he had gone to wake the boys, and had eventually located them in one of the hobbit’s many little rooms, he had found them still asleep. They were lying on an old sofa, curled around each other like puppies in a basket, the very picture of peace and innocence. He knew that was far from the truth – both had put many hours into shaping themselves into skilled fighters, and they itched for the chance to prove themselves.   
They were so very close, his nephews. Kili’s head was tucked under Fili’s chin, the elder’s arm loosely around him to keep him from falling to the floor. And all that they were about to face would only bring them closer. In that moment, Thorin had thought of Frerin. He didn’t often allow himself to think of his dead brother, it hurt too much, and he forced himself to instead worry about the living that remained in his care. If Frerin were still alive, would he and Thorin be like his nephews; two parts of a whole? Or would he have pushed him away as he had done Dis, the gap caused by unfortunate circumstances getting wider as years went by. He felt another tug of guilt as he thought of his sister, who had stayed behind in the Blue Mountains, husband long dead and her brother and sons gone on what many called a fool’s quest. And with them one who she had nearly loved, who would have been her one if Thorin had given them a chance. Not for the first time, Thorin cursed his luck at being born of the line of Durin, and the havoc it had wreaked on his family. 

“Oin, have you got anything for saddle sore?”

“Eh?”

“Treatments for saddle sore! Do you have any?”

“What? Speak up lad, I can’t hear you.”

“I said – Oh, never mind.”

“You can’t possibly be feeling sore yet!”

“Yes, we’ve only been on the road two hours.”

“I know that! Give it two weeks and we’ll all be feeling it.” 

“...Oh.”

The company was beginning to wake up a little more. The sun was now visible above the unbroken green of the Shire, and they began to grow eager for their great adventure to start. A loud, easy laugh reached Thorin’s ears through the chatter, and he just managed to stop himself from turning around and glaring at Bofur, for it was unmistakably him. He had found himself twitching every time the miner so much as moved, fearing everything he did would somehow alert Fili to the truth.   
Thorin lived in fear of the further destruction of his family. Dwarves placed a great importance on familial bonds, and those between brothers were often deemed some of the strongest; those who grew, fought, loved, lived and died together. He was plagued with how the knowledge of Fili’s true paternity could drive he and Kili apart, and wreck his family once again. The night before, in the hobbit’s home, he had pulled Bofur aside to warn him once more of the precariousness of the situation, and to remind him of the damage he could do to his family by revealing the truth. And to give him the chance to back out of the contract binding him to the quest, if he so desired. But Bofur was still a dwarf, and despite his cheery appearance, underneath it all he was just as stubborn as any other of their race.   
Thorin’s musings were thankfully cut short when a shout came up from the path behind them.

“Wait!”

He span his pony around, hand already on his sword hilt before he realised that they were still in the Shire, and the voice calling for them to stop was that of the hobbit. 

“I signed it.” He drew up level with the halted company, puffing and flushed with exertion, but smiling widely all the same. “The contract. I signed it.” Looking incredibly pleased with himself, the halfling held up the mess of paper to Balin, before jumping back out of the reach of his pony. So, the hobbit was nervous of animals. Perfect.  
Balin, also looking far too pleased with himself, cast his eye over the contract.

“Everything seems to be in order.” He tucked the papers into his coat. “Welcome, Mr Baggins, to the company of Throin Oakenshield.”

Thorin looked down, bemused, at the hobbit. In all fairness, he was impressed that the strange creature had found the courage to follow them after all, on a purpose that was not his that would most likely not end well. On the other hand, as he had told Gandalf the night before, he had no desire to watch over the soft hobbit of the Shire like a mother, to see he came to no harm. He could not guarantee his safety. When he glanced up from the hobbit’s now more uncertain smile, the wizard was smirking and the rest of the company looking at him expectantly, as though he were meant to say something welcoming and encouraging.

“...Give him a pony.” 

~*~

During the first days of their journey, Bofur’s heart swelled with happiness like it had not done for decades. He revelled in the chance just to be near Fili, seeing the kind of dwarf his son had grown up to be. He had previously only been permitted scant moments in his presence, and then only as an acquaintance of Thorin’s. He had not been allowed to see Dis at all, but that was more gift than punishment; he did not think he could have stood the torment of seeing her with another.  
Despite the warning glares Thorin sent his way every now and again, those few early days in the sun of the Shire were worth more than gold to Bofur. He simply pretended not to notice his king’s irritation, and continued to observe his son as he pleased. From the odd little glances the wizard kept giving them all, Bofur guessed he was also aware of Fili’s true parentage. This didn’t come as a surprise: he seemed to know everything.

In the past few days of his hopefully subtle Fili-watching, Bofur had learned a great deal about his unofficial son. For example, he now knew that Fili disliked rabbit, but he ate it anyway due to necessity, and the hopeful face his brother made at him every time he brought back one he’d shot. He knew that Fili had a very heavy-footed walk, even for a dwarf, something his brother teased him about endlessly. He knew that Fili was meticulous with the care of his weapons, as was his brother, as they took them out to clean each night, whether they’d had any use from them that day or not. He knew that Fili was fairly adept at whittling, and secretly hoped this was a trait passed on by himself. The fact that Kili was useless at it fanned this hope stronger. He knew that Fili would always see to his pony’s comfort before his own, and that although his brother loudly complained at taking care of his own beast, a few quiet words from Fili would soon have him brushing the animal down.  
In fact, he soon realised that he had learnt just as much about Fili’s brother as he had the dwarf himself. They were very close – unsurprising considering their upbringing and its hardships, and it was common knowledge among the dwarves that the bond between brothers was one of the strongest there could be. If the boys ever found out they were only half brothers... it didn’t bear thinking about. It would alter their relationship irreparably. Thorin needn’t have worried about Bofur keeping his fatherhood a secret so much; he wasn’t about to destroy the happiness of his only son over something so trivial as his own hurt feelings.   
He was beginning to understand why Gloin talked of his own son so often. 

On the evening of the fifth day of their travels, Bofur decided he’d had enough of only watching, and brief snatches of conversation with Fili. Besides, it was only polite he get to know the other members of the company better, and he was a sociable soul by nature. After giving it some thought, he decided the best way to get Fili to speak with him would be by first engaging his brother. Once Kili began to warm to him, it was only a matter of time before the elder followed. 

“Kili lad,” Bofur called as the boy dumped a pile of wood he’d collected close by the fire, “come sit, I’ve been meaning to ask you about something.” He patted the ground next to him and clenched the stem of his pipe between his teeth to keep it steady. Thorin was watching him, and once again, Bofur ignored him. 

Kili looked at him, one eyebrow raised in curiosity, the angles of his face made sharper by the shadow of the night and the orange glow of the fire. Eventually, he shrugged and walked over, sitting heavily on the dirt next to Bofur. “Mister Bofur,” the boy nodded and offered him an easy smile, “what would you like to know?”

Bofur chuckled and huffed out a stream of smoke. “There’s no need for the ‘mister’ lad, Bofur’ll do just fine.”

“Alright.” Kili’s smile grew a little wider, and he shifted to sit more comfortably. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, why is it you favour the bow?” Kili’s face instantly hardened, and Bofur realised he’d made a mistake. “Don’t get me wrong,” he added quickly, “I meant no offence by it. I’m just curious. It’s an interesting choice of weapon among us, is all.” He shrugged and hoped his casual approach would win him over.

“Well,” Kili began, still a little uncertain, “at first it was because I knew Fili was terrible at it, and I was determined to be better than the _golden boy_ at something.” He smirked at Fili across the fire. The elder’s response was simply to roll his eyes before resuming his conversation with Balin. 

Bofur laughed. “Aye, I tried cooking once, to prove I do could do it just as well as Bombur. I’ve not been allowed near the pot since.” 

Kili looked at him in pleased surprise, and it wasn’t long before he was rattling off tales of how he’d learnt to master the bow, how to hunt, and how to craft his own arrows, all laced with little side stories of his childhood that all included Fili; seemingly trivial things that warmed Bofur more than the campfire he was sitting next to. Before that evening, he’d thought of Kili only as Fili’s brother, and nothing more. But now, as he listened to the boy’s vivid regaling of the time he’d managed to win thirty gold coins at games of chance in the tavern and spend it all again in the same night, he had to admit he might have found something of a kindred spirit in the younger of the two. So caught up was he in Kili’s tales, that he didn’t notice when another dwarf padded over to them across the clearing. 

“You’re uncommonly loud this evening, brother.” Fili sat down beside Kili, nudging his shoulder and offering a polite nod to Bofur in greeting. “Even for you.”

Kili grinned at him and nudged him back. “I was just talking to Bofur. He carves animals. Look.” With that, he grabbed the rabbit Bofur had been whittling as they chatted and shoved it under Fili’s nose. The elder brother studied it for a moment, running his fingers over the smooth edges of the unfinished beast.

“It’s really very good, Mister Bofur.”

“Just Bofur is fine, lad.” He wanted to tell Fili that he’d noticed how fine his own carving was, but to do so he’d have to admit he’d been observing the pair of them a little more than was proper.

“Very well.” Another tight smile. “And thank you for amusing my little brother for so long. He’ll talk anyone’s ear off the first chance he gets.” His smile softened considerably when he spoke of his sibling.

Kili snorted and practically draped himself over his brother. “I’m sure our conversation was ten times more interesting than whatever you were discussing with Balin.”

“I’m sure it was.” Fili seemed to tense for a moment before relaxing under the weight of his brother, and though his expression remained neutral, Bofur noticed his eyes were never still, darting among members of the company and the darkness between the trees. Kili was simply looking up at his brother. He cleared his throat and both the princes’ eyes snapped to him.

“Kili here was educating me about the finer points of archery.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Fili absently wound a section of Kili’s hair around his fingers, “It’s about the only thing he’s good at.” 

“Hey!” Kili swatted at his brother lazily before apparently deciding it wasn’t worth it, and dropped his arm.  
Bofur remained silent, feeling a little like he was intruding, although all the brothers were doing was sitting in silence before the fire. The glow was reflected in Fili’s eyes and various buckles of their clothing. Kili’s eyes were closed. So comfortable they seemed, that Bofur was reluctant to speak and disturb their peace. Though the evening was drawing on and the darkness around them was now thick, it was a long while before Kili eventually stirred and broke the quiet. 

“I’m going to bed,” he announced, pushing himself up from the floor. “You coming?” He looked down at Fili.

“Mmm. Help me up?” He held out his hand for Kili to tug him to his feet, and the pair headed off into the gloom around the edges of the camp, presumably to find their sleeping gear.

“Night Bofur. It was nice talking to you.” Kili flashed him a sleepy smile and a wave as he stumbled away.

“You too, lad.”

~*~

It took Bofur a long while to find sleep that night. After an hour or so, he had resigned himself to staring at the stars with a mind full of ‘what if’s.’ He was glad his son had grown up happy, of course he was, but there was a part of him that ached with sadness and the loss of what might have been, when he saw the brothers together. Their closeness was enviable, and to think that he could have been a part of that too hurt. If life had been kinder, they could have both been his sons. The fleeting love between he and Dis could have grown into something unshakeable, if their time together had not been cut short by the old ways. He already knew he had loved her more than he ever could another. He could have been her one, and her his. He could have lain next to her, in a house of their own. He could have sat with her in their kitchen, cooking and laughing as their sons played by the fire. And maybe a daughter, if Mahal saw fit to grace them with such a gift, with eyes a stormy mix of Bofur’s grey and Dis’ blue.   
He was nearly asleep when he was jolted awake by a loud snore from Bombur. Instead of reaching out to smack him one, as he usually did, Bofur smiled and edged his bed roll a little closer to his brother. Through all his fretting over what might have been, he had forgotten that he did still have a family to call his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is manily neccessary filler. I apologise for the lack of excitement.  
> Next chapter: how Fili and Kili lost the ponies.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I am a lazy bastard, I didn't finish what I was meant to post today, so instead have a short-ass chapter that's main plot point is morning boners. Enjoy that.

As with most mornings since they’d left the Blue Mountains behind, Fili was bleary and unsure of his surroundings when he woke. Early morning sun poked at his eyes, and all about him were the quiet stirrings of the members of the company already awake. Kili stretched out behind him, as he often did, his chest to Fili’s back. The elder smiled, warm and sleepy, amused by his brother’s tendency to be a clingy sleeper, despite how fervently he would deny it when asked. His amusement was short-lived when he heard his brother’s soft groaning, and felt hot breath on his neck. For a moment he feared illness, until he felt the unmistakeable hardness pressed against him from behind. Shocked and feeling more than a little awkward when he realised what ailed his brother, Fili tried to slip quietly away so as not to wake him and save him the embarrassment. Knowing Kili, he would laugh and shrug it off anyway, probably with an unnecessarily lewd comment, but Fili would still rather avoid it altogether. To his horror, when he attempted to edge away, Kili only gripped him harder and his mouth brushed the back of Fili’s neck.

“...Fili.”

He froze. Never before had his brother spoken his name in such a way; undoubtedly asleep, but husky and desperate. To his shame, he felt the beginnings of arousal curling in his belly as his brother slowly rutted against his thigh. The realisation of what exactly was happening eventually caught up with Fili through his own sleepy haze, and he jumped up, tearing himself away from his brother and looking down at him in a slight state of panic.

“Ugh,” his sharp movement had finally woken Kili, who rubbed his forehead and looked blearily up at his brother. “Why did you wake me?” He groaned again and Fili was forcibly reminded his brother was not a morning person. “We aren’t leaving yet are we?”

Fili cleared his throat, blushing furiously and unsure what to say. “I – you – “ giving up on words altogether, he nodded pointedly at the bulge in his brother’s clothing. 

“What?” Kili frowned at him, still dazed and half-asleep. “I don’t – Oh.” He looked down at himself for an uncomfortably long time as though not sure what to do, before hurriedly pulling the blanket up. He grinned crookedly and had the grace to look embarrassed. “Sorry.” He rose awkwardly, attempting to casually drape his hand over his lap. “I’d best go and... take care of that. Before we leave.” He flashed one last too-bright smile and turned away.

“Right,” Fili mumbled, forcing a smile as his brother shuffled off, unsure of how convincing it was.

They were brothers. Brothers who had been sharing beds on and off all through their lives due to necessity, _of course_ this sort of thing had happened before. It would have been more unusual had it not. But this time wasn’t quite the same. Where before he would have rolled his eyes and shoved his adolescent fool of a brother away, this time, for a fraction of a moment, Fili had wanted to pull him closer. The thought was... unnerving, to say the least. And Kili had shrugged and laughed it off as he always did, but never before had he uttered Fili’s name while in a such a state. Or in _that voice_ – Sweet Mahal, he was in trouble. Fili prayed his brother didn’t know what he’d said in his fog of sleep. It would be one more complication in their already altering relationship that he could do without. Besides, he thought as he stuffed his blanket away, Kili had been practically asleep and his mind addled with arousal, he could not have _meant_ to say Fili’s name.

“Fili,” Thorin’s voice was loud in the still morning, “are you ready to go?”

He managed to turn his jolt of surprise into a nod. “Almost.”

“Good. Where’s your brother?”

“He’s... err... relieving himself.” Fili felt the warmth rise in his face and hoped it escaped his uncle’s notice.

“Hmm. Well he’d better not be long about it.” Giving Fili a quick slap on the shoulder, he left, presumably to check on the progress of rest of the company.  
Fili mentally cringed at his own choice of wording as he packed up Kili’s sleeping gear for him. It wouldn’t do to piss Thorin off for being late to start off on top of everything else that was plaguing his thoughts. And the poor hobbit always seemed to get the worst of Thorin’s irritation sent his way; Fili had been counting the number of times his uncle would terrorise Bilbo in a single day. It was a lot. 

“Fili!” Dwalin called to him. “Get over here and help me sort the beasts out.”

As asked, Fili helped Dwalin load up the ponies, and gladly lost himself in the fastening of buckles and tightening of straps, trying desperately to squash the lingering arousal at the memory of his baby brother moaning his name.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took ages, due to a combination of a busy week and wanting to make this a decent length haa.   
> This chapter contains some lines from the film, which I obviously didn't write myself. I still don't really know how I feel about trying to smush the film, book, and my own plot together, I don't know if it makes it jarr a little... Ah well, just a thought.  
> Also, I may include a chapter set eighty or so years ago, when Dis and Bofur were still all in love. Would this be entertaining, or just flashback-y and cliche? I don't know, I'll probably end up writing it anyway, for my own amusement.  
> Apologies for the rambling :)

“Fili, Kili. Look after the ponies.”

Wonderful.

Fili shared a grimace with his brother before reluctantly turning his attention to the beasts. It wasn’t that he minded watching the ponies; he would even go as far as to say that he enjoyed it on occasion. It relaxed him, gave him a task to lose himself in rather than dwelling on the enormity of what they were trying to achieve, or the way Kili kept frowning at him when he thought he wasn’t looking. His younger brother never was subtle, and that day had been worse than usual; he had been grouchy and irritated since they’d woken. He’d growled like a cross terrier at everyone who’d attempted to lighten his mood, even Bofur and the hobbit, both of whom usually cheered him immensely. The thought of an evening alone with the ponies and a sulking Kili was not something he was looking forward to. 

“Do you think this is punishment?” Fili spoke quietly, in one last attempt to lift his brother’s mood. 

“What?” Kili snapped without looking at him, flinging one of the ponies’ packs to the ground.

Fili winced at his tone, but carried on regardless. “For the other night? When we teased Bilbo about the orcs – I don’t think Thorin appreciated it.” 

“Probably. Grumpy sod.”

“Look who’s talking,” Fili muttered under his breath. 

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Hmm.” Kili frowned at him, before turning his attention to where Thorin stood in the overgrown ruins of a house, talking animatedly with Gandalf. “Well, it doesn’t matter. We’re stuck doing it now anyway.” He yanked the saddle off a pony with such force that the animal flinched and jittered sideways. 

“Kili!”

“What now!?”

“I don’t know why you’re being such a troll today, but don’t take it out on the ponies. Or the rest of us, for that matter. I do believe you nearly made Mr Baggins shed a tear earlier.”

Kili rolled his eyes. “Honestly. He’s too soft.”

“You shouted in his face.”

“Just leave it Fili, it doesn’t matter.”

Fili dumped another pack on the grass and absently patted the pony’s neck. “You’re going to be a delight to spend the evening with aren’t you?”

“I said leave it.” Kili’s eyes were bright with anger and his body tense, tendons in his neck pulled taught. Fili was about to shout back when Gandalf marched past them.

“I’m going to take counsel with the only member of this company who’s got any sense.”

“Who’s that?” The hobbit called after him.

“MYSELF, Mr Baggins!”

Casting his eye between the retreating wizard and his uncle, who was scowling in Gandalf’s direction, Fili realised that an evening with a grumpy Kili would be nothing compared to an evening with a furious Thorin.

~*~

They spent the next couple of hours in near silence as darkness began to fall, only communicating with grunts and one word sentences, and only then if one of the ponies strayed too far from the rest.  
Kili had just flopped to the ground again after retrieving Daisy from the murk between the trees when the thought occurred to Fili that his brother’s sour mood might have had something to do with that morning: that is to say, the manner in which they awoke. Yes, they had both laughed it off and got on with their day as was expected of them, but... the whole thing had been undeniably strange, at least for Fili, and Kili had been in an abominable mood ever since. The fact that his brother had purposely sat over six feet away from him only furthered his suspicions. 

“Kili,” the loudness of his voice in the stillness of the trees startled the ponies. Kili’s eyes snapped up to meet his.

“What?”

“I’ve had enough. I’ve had enough of you being a miserable bastard – “

Kili rolled his eyes. “Not this again...”

“– and I think I speak for everyone when I tell you to put an end to it. Or at least pretend to, for all our sakes. It’s childish.”

“You sound like Thorin,” Kili’s scowl was deeper than ever. “Why can’t you just leave it be?”

“Because I want to help!” He was tired of trying to be civil and polite, it got him nowhere with Kili.

“It’s none of your business! You – “

“I’m your brother!” Fili said desperately, before lowering his voice so it wouldn’t carry back to the others. “Your business is mine, whether you like it or not.” The distance between them was too much. He shuffled across the dirt until he was kneeling directly in front of Kili, their eyes level. “It’s my job in this life to take care of you as best I can. And, more than that, I _want_ to see you happy.” He smiled tentatively. “Besides, I promised mother when we left that I – what?”

At the mention of Dis, Kili’s face had become taught and strained, in a way that reminded Fili forcibly of Thorin.

“Nothing,” he choked out. “It’s nothing. I’m fine. Please just... forget it.”

Fili snorted, anger rising once again at his brother’s blatant denial. “Kili, don’t be ridiculous, you – “

“Alright!” Kili snarled, cutting him off. “Alright. It’s mother.”

“Oh.” Although relieved it wasn’t something _he_ had done, Fili’s concern for his brother didn’t lessen with his admission. “I – well, what about her? You can’t have received a message from her out here.”

“No,” he sighed. “No. It’s just... I miss her. I worry about her.” He smiled sadly. “It’s foolish, I know.”

Sometimes Fili forgot just how young Kili was; and how young he was himself. “She’s strong enough for all of us, you know that.”

“I know. I know, she’s an old battleaxe, and every dwarf here knows it. But we – we left her Fili. We promised her we’d never abandon her, and we did.”

“She gave us permission to go, her blessing. She’s proud of us, her sons, she told us so.” He spoke more softly. “And she knew we’d have to leave her someday.”

“I know, but everyone has left her Fili.” He grasped at his own knees, knuckles going white. “She lost her home – “

“We all did.”

“Yes, but she lost her grandfather, father, brother...”

“So did Thorin.” He sighed heavily, remembering all he’d been taught of the sacking of Erebor and the battle of Azanulbizar. Though a large portion of those killed and injured had been his family, it was hard to feel connected to names on dusty pages when he’d never known the dwarves they belonged to. 

“Thorin’s different, you know that. Besides, he’s here with us. Mother is alone: Thorin left her, we left her. Her own brother and sons left her behind to rot in the Blue Mountains to go on a journey that they may well not come back from.”

“Kili – “

“Maybe if father hadn’t died, or if she’d found another companion to spend her time with, even if he couldn’t be her true One... at least she’d have someone.”

Fili bit his lip, fighting the temptation to pull his foolish, astonishing baby brother into his arms. “Kili. If father were still alive, he would be with us, here, on this quest in the middle of nowhere. You know that. He would have wanted to fight for his home, just as the others do. And if mother had found another to care for, he would have been among our company anyway. It would have been his duty as brother-in-law to Thorin.” His voice dropped almost to a whisper. Despite his efforts not to let it get to him, cold guilt was seeping its way into his thoughts. “She would still be alone.”

“I know.” Kili sighed and slumped back against a tree. “I know. But the guilt of leaving her behind gnaws at me, brother. And everything’s so uncertain at the moment, I just – “

“Shh,” Fili interrupted, “come here.” He gave in and pulled Kili over to him, so his head lay in his lap. He began to run his fingers through his brother’s hair as best he could. He may not have favoured wearing braids, but he still enjoyed the feeling of another touching his hair. Fili had discovered the soothing effect it had on Kili years ago. “My stupid, wonderful brother,” he murmured as he worked, “whatever will I do with you?”

He leant forward at an awkward angle to press a kiss to his brother’s forehead. As he withdrew, Kili darted forward to kiss the end of his nose before settling back in his lap, grinning and closing his eyes. Fili dutifully ignored the flush creeping up his neck. 

~*~

Fili woke with a start, only to see the blue darkness of late evening, brightened slightly by dapples of moon rays through the branches. They’d fallen asleep. Fortunately not for long; the others would probably be eating by now. Kili was still asleep, his warm weight a comfort in Fili’s lap. A smile softened his face without him noticing, and he placed a hand on Kili’s shoulder to keep him close.  
Without warning, one of the ponies bolted past him and he realised what must have woken him to begin with. The beasts were trotting between the trees, sweaty and nervous, ears pricked and calling to each other. Their anxious behaviour was proof enough that something was wrong.

“Kili,” he whispered urgently, keeping his voice low so as not to alert the potential threat to their presence. “Kili, wake up.”

“Ugh, what?” Kili’s voice was rough with sleep as he cracked his eyes open. 

“Something’s wrong.” The moment his brother was conscious, Fili shoved him from his lap and rose to his feet.

“That was hardly necessary. It’s difficult enough to get a decent amount of sleep out here, and I know we were meant to be watching the ponies, but they’re hardly going to do anything, Fili, and – “

“Shh, Kili.” Fili spoke sharply and held out a hand to emphasise his command. Sensing the potential seriousness of the situation, Kili did as he was bid. Listening intently for any further noise, Fili quickly counted the ponies scattered among the trees and the clearing. Fourteen... “Kili, how many ponies do you see?”

“What, why? We know how many – “

“Just tell me!”

“Fine! Honestly...” Fili watched as Kili’s frown grew more pronounced as he counted the remaining beasts. “Ah.”

With that insightful comment, they stared into the dark trees ahead of them, unsure of the best course of action. Several large trees had been uprooted, branches snapped and sprawling over the ground. That did not bode well.

“I brought you – Oh.” Mr Baggins stumbled into the clearing, balancing two bowls of probably quite good stew. He drew up alongside the brothers, looking expectantly in the same direction as they did. “What’s the matter?”

“We were meant to be looking after the ponies.” Kili spoke quickly, not breaking his stare.

“Only, we’ve encountered a slight problem.” Or perhaps it was not so slight, Fili thought. That remained to be seen.

“We _had_ sixteen.”

“Now, we have fourteen.”

Apparently roused by the arrival of the hobbit, Kili started off in the direction of the destroyed trees. “Daisy and Bungle are missing.”

“Well. That is not good.” Bilbo kept the bowls steady as he and Fili followed the younger dwarf. “That is not good at all.” He laughed nervously. “Shouldn’t we tell Thorin?”

“No, best not worry him.” Fili tried to sound casual as he inspected the roots of an upturned birch. The last thing he wanted was another disappointed scowl from his uncle. “As our official burglar, we thought you might look into it.” He shared a quick glance with Kili as they both rounded on the hobbit.

“Well... it looks like something big uprooted these trees...”

Kili rolled his eyes. “That was our thinking.”

“Something big, and possibly quite dangerous.” They paused at another destroyed tree. The more he saw, the more determined Fili was to avoid whatever it was that had caused such chaos. Then something caught his eye, warm and bright through the dim branches.

“There’s a light,” he whispered, creeping slowly towards the unknown source. “Over here.”

The three of them drew closer to the orange glow, crouching amid the undergrowth to remain hidden. The hobbit was still clutching the bowls, bless his heart. Deep cackling laughter reached them through the darkness, the chills it sent down Fili’s back a total contrast to the warmth of the apparent firelight. Oh bugger...

“What is it?” Bilbo’s whisper came out as a desperate hiss as his hand gripped the log they hid behind tightly.

“Trolls,” Kili spat, and launched himself over the log and away through the trees, Fili half a heartbeat behind him. He snuck a glance at his brother as they wove through the woods. All earlier worries appeared forgotten as he slinked forward, eyes bright, and intent on the hunt. That was the Kili he cherished.  
The hobbit was scuffling along behind them, and he wasn’t the only one. Fili tugged his brother to the ground just as an unnervingly large troll blundered through the trees, grasping two more of their ponies under his arms.

“He’s got Myrtle and Minty!” The hobbit whispered, outraged. “Are they going to _eat_ them? We have to do something.”

Fili and Kili turned as one to look at him. “Yes. You should.”

~*~

Bofur was comfortable. Though he was good at making the best of a situation, real comfort had been hard to come by in the last few weeks. The ground under him was dry and springy with soft earth and leaf mould, the camp fire stoked and flickering, his belly full of good food... He could almost have been at home, if he closed his eyes and blocked out the sound of Dori and Nori bickering. Of course, all that went up in smoke the moment Fili and Kili burst back into the camp, tousled and breathing heavily, shouting nonsense about trolls. He wondered if anyone else noticed they were tightly grasping each other’s hand when they reached the camp fire, and just how quickly they pulled apart to deliver their news. 

Wait, _trolls?_

“We lost four of the ponies – “

“Well no, we didn’t lose them – “

“They were taken by the trolls – “

“They’ve wrecked half the woods and built a fire – “

“Just on the other side of those trees – “

“Which is obviously not a good sign – “

“And Bilbo went to get a closer look – “

“What?!” Thorin interrupted the boys’ garbled attempt at an explanation. “You let the hobbit wander unarmed and alone into a camp of Mahal knows how many trolls?”

The youngsters flushed with guilt and flinched at their uncle’s rage, but, to their credit, they didn’t look away from him. “That – that about covers it, yes.” Fili whispered. If there was ever a moment Bofur wanted to reach out and give his unofficial son some comfort, it was then.

“It was stupid uncle, we know, but – “

“Hush Kili,” Thorin drew his sword, “I don’t wish to hear your excuses. Show us where they are.”

Kili nodded as he and Fili turned and walked briskly back into the trees. “Very well.”

Wordlessly, the rest of the company gathered their weapons and followed their king and his heirs towards what was guaranteed to be a very unpleasant encounter. Bofur swung his mattock up over his shoulder and slapped Bombur firmly on the shoulder for luck. It was a tradition that had proved itself in the past. Time to get their burglar back. 

~*~

Thorin was not entirely sure how he felt. Tired perhaps, would be the most accurate word. Attempting to keep an eye on everyone was proving to be very trying, especially when his foolish nephews decided to leave the hobbit alone in the company of a group of rude and ravenous trolls. What on Middle-earth had possessed them to do something so idiotic, he couldn’t say. But rest assured, they were going to get an earful later.  
He rapped his knuckles on the rough arm of one of the unfortunate beasts, now safely turned to stone. Imminent danger past and his heart beating normally again, Thorin was beginning to realise how drained the whole thing was leaving him feeling. He’d die before admitting it though.   
Thorin approached Gandalf just as those unfortunate enough to have been tied over the fire by the trolls were shrugging the remainder of their clothes back on.

“Gandalf,” he said with a grim smile,” where did you go to, if I might ask?”

“To look ahead,” he replied, innocently enough.

“And what brought you back?”

“Looking behind,” said the wizard, with a barely concealed smile. “Nasty business. Still, you’re all in one piece.” 

“No thanks to your burglar,” Thorin said through his own small smile.

“He had the nerves to play for time. None of the rest of you thought of that.”

“Hmm...” If Gandalf was looking for Thorin to admit he had been wrong about the hobbit, he’d be waiting a long time. Mr Baggins was perhaps more courageous than he’d expected, but... he glanced over to where Ori was helping him wipe off the worst of the troll snot – he still looked so soft. He looked as though one good gust of wind would finish him off, and they’d be facing much worse than that. Still, Thorin couldn’t help but be somewhat impressed with Mr Baggins’ fortitude, and quick-thinking. Not that he’d tell him that, mind.   
He looked away from the disgruntled halfling to his sister-sons, sitting close together and speaking softly, reassuring each other of their safety. Well, Fili was attempting to be sensible at any rate, Kili looked more like his birthday had come early, still smiling from the rush of the fight. Strange boy. He felt himself smile all the same; his younger nephew often reminded Thorin of himself, when he was young and his biggest fear was defeat in the practice ring, and he knew nothing of real battle.   
A short distance away from them, Bofur was standing alone, apparently wiping off his mattock. But Thorin would bet his key to Erebor that he was watching the boys from the corner of his eye, and straining his ears to catch every word they shared. 

“Either way, Gandalf,” he interrupted the wizard’s mumblings about troll caves, “I’m thankful you’re back. If you’ll excuse me.” He nodded and made his way towards Bofur. 

“Remember to thank him, won’t you?” Gandalf called after him, apparently oblivious to Thorin’s unsubtle brushing him off.

“What?” Thorin’s thoughts were focused on Bofur, and as a result he didn’t fully grasp what the wizard had said.

“Bilbo,” he replied. “What he did for you all was no everyday feat for a hobbit. Nor, I think, for anybody else. It would be wise for you to remember that.”

Thorin just grunted half-heartedly and strode over to the once-miner and potential brother-in-law. Bofur looked up and grinned brightly as he approached.

“Old Gandalf showed up just in time eh? And the hobbit!” He chuckled, “Didn’t know he had the balls.”

“I suppose,” Thorin frowned. It had just struck him how similarly Fili and Bofur wore their moustaches. It made their already alike smiles practically identical. He pushed this disarming realisation aside and got on with what he had to say. “Bofur, I’ll be blunt with you,” he lowered his voice, mindful of the close proximity of his nephews, and them hearing this conversation would most definitely be counter-productive. “You were being reckless.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Bofur, still valiantly keeping up his smile under Thorin’s glare. All the same, he couldn’t stop his eyes flicking to where Fili fussed over his brother. 

“Yes you do,” he said simply. “You do not think that every second I can spare isn’t spent ensuring the safety of my nephews? But this time, I needn’t have bothered. Every time I looked up during the encounter with the trolls, there you were, at their side.”

“What of it?” said Bofur gruffly. “I’m not allowed to defend him, on top of all the other things I’m already _not allowed_ to do? Besides, I don’t see what harm could come from it...”

“I do,” Thorin gestured to the mottled bruise already starting to show on Bofur’s jaw. “They are more than capable of looking after themselves, you know that. I won’t have you needlessly risking your own safety. Fili may not know your true role in his life, but it certainly won’t do him any good if you go and get yourself killed watching his back where it doesn’t need watching.”

“Fine,” Bofur sighed, defeated. “Fine. I understand. He grew up perfectly fine without me, so why should he have any need of me now.”

“I didn’t say that,” Thorin hissed. “Look,” he rubbed his forehead, tiredness creeping up again. “When we retake Erebor, and if my sister permits it, you may see Fili as frequently as you wish.”

Bofur blinked. “What?”

“You heard. Of course, the boy still must never know who you truly are. But, when this is done, all other restrictions will be lifted. There will be no limit on the time you may spend with him, provided he wishes to see you.”

“I – thank you.” Bofur bowed his head ever so slightly. “My king.”

“Hmm.” Despite being born and raised as royal, it still sometimes felt strange to be called king, as though it were all just a game they were playing. “Don’t make me regret it.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this story finally earns its M rating this chapter.  
> Sorry it took so long; the weather's been fantastic the last few weeks, and I'm currently all about the modern AUs, so this was a bit of a mission to get done.

The elf who’d shown them to their room bowed with a slightly stiff smile before stalking off back down the hall. Fili shed his cloak and pack, and dumped them on the floor. He was loathe to leave such vital items unattended on the floor of some elvish chamber, but he was tired and too hot after another day’s travel, and deep underneath his mistrust he knew his possessions would be perfectly safe. He wasn’t exactly comfortable Rivendell, but so far its people didn’t seem as bad as Thorin had led him to believe. He was hardly ready to hold hands and sing with them yet, though.   
Some of the others had already left their appointed rooms behind, chattering loud and brash in the hall, footsteps heavy and echoing on the hard floors as they made their way back down into the gardens. 

“Nice, this place,” said Kili, although his tone suggested the exact opposite, “if you like furniture made of twigs.” He wrinkled his nose at the crisp bedding. “Or everything in shades of white that show the mud. Can you imagine Mother’s face if she saw this room?” He turned and grinned. “She’s the most practical person I know. She’d have a fit.” 

Fili hummed in agreement, watching his nosy brother poke around the furnishings. 

“I suppose we should find the others.” Kili straightened from looking at an intricate glass vase on a small table next to the bed.

“Yes. Yeah, we should. It’s just...” Fili hesitated, unsure of how to put what he wanted to say into the right words. “I – could you – oh, bugger it.” He pulled Kili into his arms in a warm, rough, bear hug, like they would when they were younger and seeking comfort from each other. He breathed deep, ignoring how Kili had gone stiff in his grasp, and took in the smell of his neck; unpleasant with horse and dirt and sweat from their travels, but comforting all the same. Reassuring, to know he was still there. The thrill and danger of the quest seemed banished in the calm cleanliness of the elves, leaving Fili keenly aware of how easily Kili could be hurt or killed, and lost to him forever. He felt his brother’s arms close around him, hands firm on his back, and Fili clung to him all the harder in return. Eventually, he drew back, hoping he’d managed to convey to Kili how thankful he was that they were both still among the living, rather than just making him uncomfortable with his show of affection. His fears were confirmed when he looked to Kili’s face; he was frowning and his cheeks were flushed pink. 

“Kili, I – “ Fili rubbed the back of his grubby neck awkwardly and tried to force a smile. “Nevermind. Come. Let’s find the others.”

“No, wait.” Kili gripped his elbow to keep him from leaving, speaking slow and still frowning. “I just need to...” he trailed off. Before Fili could even guess at what was coming, Kili darted forward and pressed a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. He pulled away almost instantly, leaving Fili wide-eyed and breath stuck in his throat, wondering if he’d imagined it. The silence between them was both thick and fragile, lasting no time at all and feeling thousands of years. Then Kili leant forward again into Fili’s space, eyes closed and face scrunched up like a child, as he pressed a kiss directly to Fili’s mouth. Just lips on lips, unmoving and firm. It would have seemed almost innocent, if it weren’t for the swirling dark mess of desire and guilt lurking somewhere in the pit of Fili’s stomach. Shoving his fears and rational thought aside and going along with what every nerve in his body was telling him to do, he tentatively slid his tongue over the seam of Kili’s lips. Something snapped in Kili then, and he kissed back almost with ferocity, tongue so deep in Fili’s mouth he could barely breathe. His fingers, nimble and clever with many years of fletching his own arrows, were suddenly clumsy as they tugged at Fili’s buckles and laces. Fili felt a sharp nip at his lower lip, the twinge of pain bringing him back to his senses. He shoved Kili away from him, hard, and the younger fell heavily onto one of the beds. 

“Fili?” He spoke quietly, eyes bright, propped up on his elbows. “What’s the matter?”

Fili’s jaw dropped open in incredulity. _“What’s the matter?”_ he repeated, in disbelief that his brother could seriously be asking him such a question. “I can’t do this.” He shook his head and turned towards the door.

“Fili, wait.” He heard his brother scuffling onto his feet, but he kept walking. “Please!”

Resolutely ignoring his little brother’s plea, he slammed the bedroom door behind him, and hoped Kili would have the sense not to follow him. He needed to be away from him for a while. He knew that separation wouldn’t soothe the guilt clawing away inside him, but he knew for sure that having to look at Kili’s face and feeling nothing but a dull throb of want course through him again wouldn’t help anybody. They could not do this.   
He could hear the rest of the company somewhere below, on a wide terrace overlooking a part of the gardens. He followed the raucous laughter until he rounded a corner and was greeted by a large fire, looking suspiciously like it was fuelled by elven furniture. His uncle wasn’t there, and Fili thought he may be the last dwarf with whom he’d wished to speak with at that moment anyway, besides Kili. If Thorin knew what Fili had just done... it didn’t bear thinking about. He sat down close to the others, but not so close that he had to join in with their chatter. His fingers filled and lit his pipe without much thought, the ritual familiar and habitual, and for a while he simply sat and smoked, emptying his mind of all thought as he stared into the flames. 

He was rudely jolted from his reverie when Bofur sat down heavily beside him, clapping a hand on his shoulder and making him inhale the smoke the wrong way.

“Evening, lad,” he said with a smile.

“Hello,” Fili coughed through his pipe smoke.

“Where’s your brother?”

Fili felt his mouth tighten into a grim line. “Upstairs.”

“Ah.” Bofur had obviously registered his gloomy tone, and gave him a sympathetic pat on the knee. “Fallen out, have we?”

“You could say that, yes.” He prayed Bofur would just accept their argument as a brotherly spat and think no more on it. Which he did of course; guilt was clouding Fili’s judgement of the situation.

“I see.” Bofur pulled his own pipe from one of his many pockets; it was uncommon to leave a fellow dwarf to smoke alone. “Happens to the best of us. Bombur wouldn’t speak to me for three weeks once, after a ridiculous squabble over something I can’t even remember, now. It’ll blow over, lad, it always does.”

“I hope you’re right.” Fili sincerely doubted he was. He was already regretting leaving Kili up there alone, most likely miserable and wallowing in guilt, just as he was. 

“You’re brothers.” Bofur shrugged as if his answer fixed everything. “It’s one of our most treasured forms of bond, and not to be taken lightly. That alone should get you through whatever’s got you two sulking. And,” his smile seemed to dim a fraction as he spoke his next words, “if there’s one thing that’s worth making an effort for, it’s your family.”

Bofur was right. Of course he was. He and Kili could get through this mess, just as they had always done: together. He was being ridiculous; Kili deserved better than this from his brother. “Thank you Bofur,” Fili flashed him a grateful smile and clasped his shoulder in thanks, before standing and making his way back up to the sleeping quarters. 

“You’re welcome, son.” Bofur said, though it went unheard, and his smile slipped completely from his face. He stared into the flames mournfully, as Fili had done just before. But his sadness went unnoticed, as Fili rushed back to his brother.

It would work out fine, Fili told himself as he wound his way up yet another staircase. He would talk to Kili, work out this mess and put it behind them. Of course, the guilt he felt over his newfound desire for his little brother would linger; he couldn’t say how long it would be before that began to fade. But he would apologise, Kili would laugh and call him a fool, they would hug (albeit probably slightly awkwardly) and they would carry on just as they had done before. As brothers, the two of them against the world.   
He turned the final corner, cursing the intricate layout and many levels of the Last Homely House, and reached the door to his and Kili’s shared rooms. He eased the door open gently, opening it just enough so he could peer through the gap. Fili knew his brother better than anyone, and therefore he knew it was quite likely Kili would be asleep after their tryst. It was late, and it had been a long while since they’d slept in comfort and safety, and conflict tired his brother at the best of times. Fili didn’t want to wake him.   
The room was dim, lit only by the moonlight coming through a large window opposite the door. Kili was lying on one of the beds. Fili opened his mouth to quietly ask Kili if he was awake, but the words died in his throat as he realised what his brother was doing. 

Kili’s hand was down his trousers, stroking himself slow and firm, back arching off the bed into his own touch. He was frowning, biting at his lower lip and tousled hair spread over the pillow. Of course, he hadn’t removed his boots, and had smeared mud over the previously white sheets. But Fili was no longer concerned about that when he heard the low whine that left his brother’s throat as he began to stroke himself faster.   
Fili knew he should have left; gone back down to others and said that Kili was asleep and he’d talk to him in the morning. He should have pretended he hadn’t seen his brother touching himself in the dark. He should have pretended he didn’t find the sight arousing beyond belief, that he couldn’t feel his own cock swelling as he listened to the wrecked sounds leaving Kili’s throat. But he didn’t leave. His mind was empty of rational thought as he watched Kili’s hand on himself, the other slipping up under his shirt to scrape down his chest. Without realising what he was doing, Fili reached his hand down to palm himself through his clothes. 

“Fili...”

Fili’s hand stilled at his brother’s low growl of his name. He was touching himself to thoughts of him? It shouldn’t have been surprising, considering what had happened between them earlier, but with that knowledge, Fili could not take it any longer, and flung open the door.   
Kili’s eyes snapped to him as he strode across the room, hazy with arousal and confusion.

“Fili. I – “

Fili cut him off as he climbed a top him, bringing their mouths together in a hungry, possessive kiss. He had always been protective in a brotherly manner, but hearing Kili say his name in such a way awakened a new and slightly disturbing possessiveness in Fili. In that moment, he didn’t think he could bear the thought of Kili uttering another’s name in the way he’d just spoken his.  
Kili gave as good as he got, pushing back into the kiss and nipping at Fili’s lip as he had earlier, his hand coming around to grasp a handful of Fili’s hair and pull him closer. 

“I thought,” he said between kisses, “that you didn’t want this.”

“How could I not?” Fili breathed, scraping his nails down his brother’s chest as he’d seen him do to himself. “My beautiful brother.”

Kili growled and kissed him deeper, rolling his hips up into Fili in a clear sign of what he craved. The voice in Fili’s head telling him that this was the worst thing he had ever done was very small now, and went largely ignored in the back of his mind as he brought his hand down into his brother’s trousers, to resume stroking him. Kili gasped at the unexpected touch, and gripped his thick handful of Fili’s hair harder, tugging it roughly until Fili snapped and bit lightly at Kili’s neck in retaliation.   
Kili moaned and thrust harder into Fili’s hand, as he stoked quickly and mercilessly.

“I’m not going to last –“ he swallowed “– much longer if you keep doing that.”

“That’s the idea,” Fili groaned as he began to rut against his brother’s thigh. “Look at what you do to me,” he said, taking a grim sort of pleasure in the way Kili’s eyes widened at the feel of his hardness against his leg, “look how hard I am for you. Only you. I am yours, Kili.” As much as it was said in the heat of the moment, he knew it was true. 

Seconds later, Kili was coming, once again moaning his brother’s name as he spilled over his own stomach and Fili’s hand. “And I am yours,” he breathed out in the last waves of his orgasm, pressing a soft kiss to Fili’s lips. At his declaration and surprisingly tender gesture, Fili felt his own orgasm rise up and obliterate him, panting into Kili’s mouth as he came in his trousers. 

They lay still for some time after that, breathing each other’s air, Fili still a top Kili and their hands firmly gripping one another. Their minds blissfully blank of anything but each other in their afterglow.   
But then Kili shifted slightly, and Fili felt the uncomfortable wetness in his clothing, his brother’s cum drying on his hand and the bruise beginning to form from the bite on his neck, and the full, terrifying consequences of what they had just done rushed back to him with a vengeance. He stared at Kili in horror for a moment, which only worsened when he saw the happy, sated smile on his brother’s face fall into a worried frown.

“What’s the matter Fee?”

“I have to go,” he began to gently pull away.

“No,” Kili tightened his grip on his brother to keep him close, “no please don’t do this Fili. Don’t close up on me again.”

Fili wrenched himself away before Kili’s pleading got to him, hardening his heart to the desolate look on his brother’s face. The horrible, burning guilt clawed at him again, the feeling that he had desecrated the sacred bond between brothers, and somehow stolen something from Kili in the process. “I’m swapping rooms with someone.” His voice sounded dull and empty, even to his own ears. 

“Fili,” his brother met his eyes in one last attempt, “leaving me now will only make this worse and you know it. Please just stay, talk to me.”

“I can’t,” Fili choked out and closed his eyes against the frustrated tears welling there. He turned before Kili could see them, and for the second time that night, walked away to leave his brother alone and miserable. He closed the door behind him and made his way down the hall. Who would he ask? He definitely did not want to bring Thorin into this... perhaps Bofur would swap with him. He knew the brothers had fallen out, after all. It would only add credibility to what he’d said earlier, that was a stupid argument, and nothing more. 

“Talk to me you coward!” He heard Kili’s muffled scream at him, and something heavy hit the door he had just shut, smashing into pieces. He feared that was the end of the fine vase Kili had taken such an interest in earlier.


End file.
